


A Meet-Cute (With Vodka)

by editingatwork



Series: Top Shelf [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Flirting, M/M, Wedding, alcohol consumption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 13:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8847226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editingatwork/pseuds/editingatwork
Summary: Kent goes to his sister's co-worker's wedding, does vodka shots, and meets a hot stranger.





	

It’s not Kent’s wedding. It’s Kent’s sister’s co-worker’s wedding. Or... his sister’s co-worker’s... friend?

Kent’s sitting in a lacy chair at a table with a white tablecloth, staring at his empty plate and the rest of the guests filling the dining hall. It’s been nearly an hour and the wedding party hasn’t arrived at the reception hall with everyone else.

Kent posits this dilemma to his sister and those at their table. “Maybe they got lost?” he suggests.

A big man across from Kent shakes his head. “No. In Russian wedding, bride and groom go on city tour after ceremony. They take photos, see historical sites. Is very traditional.”

“Oh. How long does that take?”

The man across from Kent has brown eyes and a big nose and is wearing his gray three-piece suit like a muscular wet dream. When he smiles, Kent sees some crooked teeth, and that little imperfection just makes the man hotter. The man says, “Usually is several hours. But this is very Western ceremony, so maybe only two.”

Kent looks around and repeats, “Oh.” There’s bottles of vodka on the table, so he grabs one. “Who wants a shot?”

 “Kent!” Mariella exclaims.

The big man laughs. “You alright. Here, take my glass. I want one, too.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet this is like water for you, huh?” There are shot glasses at each seat. Kent fills his first, then the other man’s.

“Secret to vodka is not tolerance,” the man replies, and takes his shot glass from Kent. “It is pacing.” He raises his glass in a toast, and then winks and tips the glass back. Kent mirrors the toast and gulps his glass. It burns like hell, but the taste is pure.

“Aw shit, that’s good stuff,” he says, and the other man laughs. Kent leans across the table, hand outstretched. “I’m Kent.”

“Alexei.” He shakes Kent’s hand, and then looks past him at the door. “Ah, party is back.”

It turns out that Kent started in on the vodka prematurely. The bride and groom get the first toast of the evening, after which everyone chants, “Gorko, gorko, gorko!” until they make out. The next toast goes to the parents. From there, the food gets served, speeches are made, and someone turns on the music. It’s all very fun and casual. Kent eats his weight in free food, does another vodka shot with Alexei, and then lets Mariella pull him onto the dance floor.

After two songs with Mariella and two more with a woman he doesn’t know but whom he thinks might be trying to not-so-subtly grab his ass, someone taps his shoulder.

“May I’m borrow him?” Alexei asks Kent’s dance partner, and sweeps Kent up before the woman can protest. It’s ridiculously rude, and it makes Kent laugh.

“Jealous?” Kent teases, because he’s drunk and having a good time.

“Do you like jealous men?”

“Yeah,” Kent says, looping his arms around Alexei’s neck and grinning up at him. “That possessive shit gets me hot.”

Alexei gets his big hands on Kent’s hips, steers him around the dance floor like a sports car. He keeps a few inches of space between them at all times. It drives Kent up a wall. He tries to wiggle closer, until Alexei ducks in close and murmurs into Kent’s ear, “This is wedding. There are kids here.”

Oh, right. Kent checks over his shoulder, looks around the dining hall. “Men’s room?”

Alexei gives him a look.

“Oh, fine,” Kent says, laughing at the disapproval on Alexei’s face. “Let’s just dance.”

They do. And when they tire of that, they go back to the table. Kent eggs Alexei into joining him in taking another shot of fucking quality vodka. They eat savory finger foods off the table’s abandoned plates and get into a bitch-fest about something sports-related that Kent will be hard-pressed to fully recall tomorrow. He’s definitely drunk. He thinks that might be the reason he finds everything that comes out of Alexei’s mouth so entertaining, why he keeps laughing so hard there are tears on his face. Or maybe Alexei’s just that fucking funny.

At the end of the night, Kent finds Mariella again. She is only slightly less drunk than he is.

Alexei makes sure they get a cab home. Before he closes the door, he slips a business card into Kent’s back pocket, his hand lingering on the curve of Kent’s ass. “Call me,” he says, to which Kent replies idiotically, “Yes, sir.”

Alexei smiles, kisses his nose and helps him into the car. He waves as the cab drives off.

The next morning, Kent is hungover and his mouth tastes like something died.

It’s noon. He has thirty unread text messages and five missed calls. Two of the calls are from work.

Shit.

He checks his texts—received and sent—on the train.

 

**5:45pm**

**holy shit zimms did u know russian weddings have a tour after the ceremony? fucking city tour. when u marry bits, u gotta have a city tour.**

_5:46pm_

_Kenny, no._

**5:48pm**

**zimms, u GOTTA.**

**oh shit, there’s no open bar. i’m at a russian wedding and there’s no open bar.**

**5:50pm**

**bottles of vodka at the tables. WITH SHOT GLASSES.**

**getting to work tomorrow may be an issue.**

_6:01pm_

_Please drink responsibly._

**6:15pm**

**;)**

His boss glares at him when he gets in, but he’s let off with a warning because his attendance record is impeccable.

Work sucks. Partly because it’s office work, but mostly because he’s hungover.

When he gets home, there are five missed calls again. All of them are from Mariella.

Kent calls her.

She answers on the first ring. “Did you hook up with my boss?!”

Kent stares at the off-white of his bedroom wall. “No?”

“Charity said you were grinding on him all night.”

“Who the fuck is Charity?”

“She was at our table!”

Oh. The handsy brunette. “That girl grabbed my ass on the dance floor.”

“Kent Vincent Parson, did you, or did you not, hook up with my boss?”

Kent puts the phone down. He goes to the overflowing laundry hamper and digs out last night’s pants. The business card is still there.

 _Alexei Mashkov_  
CEO  
Sochi Sports International

Mariella is a marketing director at Sochi Sports’ North American branch.

Kent retrieves his phone. “I did not hook up with your boss,” he says. “But I think he wants to hook up with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](http://punmasterkentparson.tumblr.com/). writing stuff is also on tumblr. join me.


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